Little Miss Tyrannical
by ChristmasInHollywood
Summary: Without the guidance of a Watcher, Buffy Summers deals with her new powers in a very different way. Meanwhile, something is watching her from the shadows, waiting for the moment to make her his. AU, dark, eventually BAus. ON HIATUS.
1. POWERUP!

What if the Watcher's Council had never found Buffy? Would she have reacted to her powers differently? And I threw in some B/Aus, just for fun. It's not tremendously happy, so if you are looking for _teh fluff_, look elsewhere (you could even read my other fic, _Never Fading_, hint hint).

This is AU, I suppose, but all of Buffy's life before becoming the Slayer is as it was in the movie/series/whatever.

**NO** Merrick

**NO** Pike

**NO **Gypsy Curse

I recommend watching the original movie (actually I don't, it's pretty bad), which would probably make this clearer. Alternatively, just read the story and hopefully it'll make sense anyway. Enjoy.

**Chapter One: POWERUP!!!**

---

Buffy Anne Summers was a spoilt little girl with the face of a magazine-air-brushed angel. She had California skin and eyes like absinthe, one look from which could make or break your day. She was a dream, a vision in designer clothes and perfect makeup from her bleach-blonde hair to her designer heels.

She was a lie.

The insecurities of popularity nibbled away at the back of her mind. Any moment, she could lose the grip she had on those around her. She had to keep looking right, talking right, and acting right. She had to keep being Buffy, or she'd lose it all.

Anyone who said she made no effort at school was very wrong indeed – she made more effort than anyone else, she was sure. Every part of her ached from the effort she put in. Her feet were bruised from expensive shoes and she longed to be able to wipe the makeup from her face.

But she kept her face in that perfect Hollywood smile. She kept acting, constantly alert and aware of anyone who tried to get in her way.

-

And today was just any other day for her. She woke up and pulled off the eye mask that was guaranteed to reduce bags (to ensure that no one knew she tossed and turned at night – her recent dreams of chaos and death were making her lose beauty sleep) and performed the usual strict morning beauty routine. Everything she did was designed to look easy and effortless, but it always took ages.

She was too busy styling her hair to realise that she'd lifted her dresser clean off the floor to get to her hairbrush. Too busy trying to keep her smile on to realise that the bag on her back seemed lighter. Too busy keeping her oh-so-perfect cool to realise that she'd run for the bus quicker than she'd ever run in her life. And everyone else was too busy noting what she was wearing and who she was talking to to care.

"Ew, have you seen Ellie's shirt? F-u-g-l-y," she sniped, by way of greeting, to her faithful clique. They rushed to agree, restoring her morning confidence, before complimenting her own choice of outfit. She settled down into her seat, their careful comments washing over her like stale heat from a hairdryer – comforting, but only temporary.

The day passed, slowly and without any other major event. She did reasonably well in lessons – not too well, so she wouldn't be classed as a 'geek', but not too badly, she didn't want extra work intruding on her social life – and flicked through magazines at lunch, sipping a low fat smoothie. She always ate less at school, so that everyone would think she stuck to a celebrity diet, whatever was cool this month.

-

Cheerleading practice seemed a little different somehow. She felt more agile, and her lifts seemed to have improved without explanation.

"Good job, Buffy," said head cheerleader Natalie, as Buffy stood perfectly straight at the top of the pyramid. She beamed with pride, glad that her practicing had paid off, but couldn't shake off the feeling that something was a little different.

"Are you ok?" asked Kimberley after practice, as she pulled on a sweatshirt over her uniform, "you seem a little, like, _not here_." Buffy shook her head dismissively.

"I'm fine; I'm just a little tired." She grappled around for a topic to switch to. "Have you seen that leather jacket in Macy's? It's _so_ hot. I'm thinking I might go by on my way home." She waited for an answer, and Kimberley rushed to agree.

"Yeah, it's _sooo_ you. I saw something totally similar in Vogue last week, and I was like 'wow, Buffy'd look really great in that'…" she kept gabbling, as Buffy applied lip-gloss, the words just a buzzing in her ears.

-

She did go by on her way home. There were ten minutes left until closing time when she arrived at the mall, and she trod the route as she had done a thousand times. The jacket felt reassuringly new and expensive in the bag that rustled every time it hit her leg. The way home was less well-lit than the way to the mall, and now it was well after sundown.

Shadows crept in around her, the empty blackness of the night seeming to eat into what little was provided by the dim orange streetlights. Buffy walked faster, her feet strangely light on the sidewalk. Her fast breathing was due to fear, not exhaustion – on the contrary she felt strangely alive. She kept walking, calming herself.

Eventually her route passed a graveyard, and she scolded herself for complying with such a horror movie cliché. She raced past the graveyard, knowing that home was just a block away, and directly into the arms of a grinning, deformed man.

-

His forehead was gnarled, a ridge over his gleaming yellow eyes. As his grin widened, Buffy saw his long, sharp teeth. _Oh God, ohgodohgodohgod_. She tried desperately to remember self defence lessons, trying to pull his wrists apart, her eyes still tightly squeezed as though she could make all this go away if she forced herself to believe it was only a dream.

His wrists were suddenly wrenched apart, as though something deep inside her had bubbled to the surface, boiling with strength and rage. Unexplainably, she spun, and hit him with a kick in the chest. He flew back, slamming against the wall. After a beat, he scrambled back up and lunged for her again. She dodged, revelling in what was happening, and he stumbled right past, slamming into a tree.

It took Buffy a moment to realise that a branch was sticking out right through his back. The man – or whatever he was – was moaning in pain, but clearly not dead. Cautious, but excited, Buffy walked up to him.

"You tried to hurt me," she said, in a cold voice that did not sound like her own, seizing his wrist as he had done hers. She yanked it to the side, hearing the bones snap like twigs. The thing roared in pain again, the tree branch still poking bloodily out of his back.

Buffy looked at the branch for several moments, until that strange power rumbled again in her chest. She seized the branch, slippery with blood, and pulled it sharply upwards. The man exploded into dust, and Buffy jumped back, gasping. She looked down at her grimy, bloodstained hands, and she smiled.

It felt… good.

And all the while, something was watching her from the shadows, smiling coldly. Something old, evil and soulless, with the face of an angel.

---

Should I continue it, or throw it away before I'm compelled to do so?

Please please please review – they make my day!


	2. grace

Only one review… sob

So, I added the first chapter almost a year ago and didn't update. That was mean of me, I'm sorry. If you reviewed it last year, thank you so, incredibly, very much, and I hope you're still reading.

Here goes.

**Chapter Two: grace**

Buffy was terrified. She was a freak, something unnatural. She had always been suspicious of anything not-normal, from the weirder kids at school to the crazy people that lurked at train stations when it got dark. The power that she felt was strong and unfamiliar, ice-cold and rock-hard. It was strange and it frightened her more than anything in the world.

And yet she felt excited, purposeful. She had no idea what that thing that attacked her had been, but killing it had felt so right. Stepping into her house almost silently, her heart was still beating double-time against her ribs. Her hand, clasped around the Macy's bag – the only thing that seemed to link her with normality – was still smeared with blood.

She rushed into the bathroom, nervously scrubbing her hands. The water ran red under her hands, blood slipping away, mixed with almond-scented soap. It foamed pinkish as it slid down the basin, lost. It was comforting, like watching her worries float away. Her hands were clean now; she wiped them on a towel and left no stain at all. There was no evidence of what had happened, no clue to say what had happened. She clenched her spotless hands, knowing the power that they could wield. She felt energised, powerful… invincible.

Buffy Summers didn't need to run for the bus the next day. She climbed the steps with a new aura around her, a predatory feel that hovered and crackled and burned. The other passengers noticed, felt it as she brushed past. It wasn't quite physical, just a feeling, something raw and primal. It felt unreasonable – this was Buffy, popular girl extraordinaire. Scary, yes, but human. But now her eyes were quick and sharp and she moved with liquid grace. Like a panther in the jungle. The muscles in her legs – toned from years of ice-skating – seemed more pronounced. She looked stronger, _older_ somehow, more in tune with her body. But of course, these were only human children. They saw her for a moment, admired and envied her, and thought of other things.

But there was stirring now, deep below the ground. Lower beings burrowed deeper, slunk into the shadows and growled. As the school bus rolled over the ground, a wind was picking up. But no one on the bus felt it, including Buffy, sitting in the same seat that she always sat in; surrounded by the people she called her friends.

School was just another day, in most respects. The lessons dragged painfully and lunch was an empty hour over in a moment. Buffy was normal, so normal. She had learnt how to pretend, and this was just more of the same. Still, her mind buzzed with thoughts.

The sun had just set as she wandered home from cheerleading practice. Purple clouds were drifting across the steadily-darkening sky. Apart from a whining dog chained to a fence on the opposite side of the street, she was completely alone, and her mask was dropped. Her face was set in a frown, as she kicked a can absent-mindedly down the street. She began to organise her thoughts, going over the worries which had plagued her all day.

_This shouldn't have happened. Why me? Why isn't anyone telling me what to do? Something's missing, something _important_. I need someone, someone who knows what's happening to me._

As though her prayer was being answered, she heard faint footsteps behind her. Pausing, her breath catching slightly and her heart thumping in her chest, she turned. She was now looking into the face of – quite possibly – the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

"I… I.. um…" She paused, gulping. He looked in his twenties – far older than she, at only 15, was used to. He was very pale, which seemed to make his dark eyes and perfect cheekbones stand out even more obviously. She made an attempt at bravado, hands on her hips, trying to quickly replace her mask. "Were you following me?"

"What would you say if I was?" His voice was more human than she expected, if slightly cold. "I know who you are," he continued, a slight smile playing around his lips.

"So, what, you're like… some stalker?" She was scared now, but at the same time almost intrigued. And she knew she was strong now, she could take him if she tried anything. _Not that I'd mind_, she thought with a nervous internal giggle.

"And I know what you are." His voice was purposeful now, his eyes boring into her. She dropped her guard, staring at him in wide-eyed astonishment.

"You… you do? How? Tell me!" She moved closer now, taken over by curiosity. "Please, please tell me what's happening to me!" He laughed, not kindly but not in a particularly unpleasant way. It was a nice sound, and yet it made the hairs on the back of Buffy's neck stand up.

"I'll tell you everything you need to know." He paused. "Eventually." She made a frustrated noise, which didn't seem to affect him at all. "Meet me tomorrow," he continued, moving slightly closer to her as though sharing a secret, "here. Right here. I can teach you how to use it."

"Use what?" She knew exactly what he was talking about, but she wanted to keep talking, something about his presence was comforting, if disconcerting at the same time.

"Your power. You feel it right now. You killed yesterday." A cold feeling rushed down Buffy's spine, and she knew it showed on her face, but instead of grabbing her arm and marching her to the Police Station, he smiled. "Your style could be improved."

"I… um.. ok." She didn't continue, now completely lost for words. In less than a heartbeat, she realised he was now very close to her, holding her shoulder with his hand. She raised her own hand to his shoulder, but before she could decide to either push him away or pull him closer, he whispered in her ear.

"It was nice to meet you, Buffy. And by the way, my name is Angel." And she was let go, as though she was spinning. She wanted him back, holding her. It had felt… safe.

He turned away, a faint and knowing smile on his face. He walked with a predatory grace, the kind she herself now unknowingly possessed, and faded into the night.

**END**

I know it's short, I'm very sorry. The next one will be longer, I promise. And juicier. And if you're wondering why it's 'Angel' not 'Angelus' it's because... Angel sounds cooler. Pretty much. He's movin' with the times.

Questions, comments, suggestions: all are welcome. I live for reviews. Seriously.


	3. A Grave Situation

It was the same time, the very next night

Thanks for the reviews, people. I'm going to try and update as much as possible, but I'm going away on Friday for a week… I'll try and get up to Chapter 4 before I go, if coursework permits.

Thank you reviewers (that means you: fuer grissa ost drauka, uskohakuchan, and ConstantReader77). I actually love you guys.

**Chapter Three: A Grave Situation**

It was the same time, the very next night. Considerably colder, and with the sun far longer gone than it had been the night before. Winter was racing in. Buffy was sitting awkwardly on a wall, in almost exactly the same place that she and Angel had met the night before. She'd been waiting only a few minutes, but they had dragged into what felt like hours, the sky darkening and the street quietening every second.

She shivered slightly as a particularly biting breeze swirled the leaves around her feet, clutching her coat closer around her, and staring the length of the street up and down once more. She began to worry, tapping her feet as her teeth chattered. _Where is he? He said to meet me here… am I late? He's going to teach me, he said he'd teach me…_

Her thoughts were interrupted by the dog across the street. It began to whine, pitifully. She looked up at it. It was backing against the fence which it had been chained to, scrabbling to get inside, away from whatever it was which caused it so much fear. Staring at it, Buffy lost focus on her surroundings, her newly improved senses focusing entirely on the dog. Suddenly she felt a cold hand on her shoulder, and she leapt up, screaming.

"What the – oh, right." She saw who it was and quickly tried to compose herself, annoyed that she was so jumpy – she was a superior being now, after all, nothing should be able to scare her. Except him. Angel was staring at her with a slightly amused expression on his face. "Do you get off on scaring people?"

"Actually yes," he replied, without changing his expression. She wondered if he was trying to make a joke. "Let's go," he said, and she felt a tingle of electricity as he helped her up from the wall, his hand clasping hers. He had cold hands, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. He felt strong. "We have a lot to get done."

She wasn't sure exactly where they were going, but she felt an overwhelming sense of trust for this stranger. _Maybe it's because he's so completely gorgeous_, she mused, _or maybe it's because… no one else can teach me why I have this power. It's because I'm special. Right?_ He showed no sign of knowing what she was thinking, but stopped abruptly at the iron gate of what Buffy knew was a graveyard. She felt a sudden chill, as though something inside knew what she was and was… waiting. She stopped walking and tugged Angel back. He looked quizzical for a moment, before grinning again.

"Are you _joking_?" Buffy eyed Angel with a look she knew made guys (at least, guys her age) falter. _Graveyards are creepy at the best of times, but at NIGHT?_ Angel smirked, leaning against the gate. He looked completely at home standing there, his skin illuminated in the moonlight, and his clothes camouflaged in the dark.

"Think of it like learning to swim. You learn best if you're thrown in at the deep end." He swept inside and she followed. Somehow, when she was with him she felt none of the superiority she had begun to feel at school. He was like her – sleek, powerful. A predator.

The graveyard was eerily quiet and still, the slight breeze outside completely dropping as Buffy stepped through the gate. She heard a crunching sound beneath her feet and jumped slightly, blushing when she realised it was only leaves.

"What are we doing here?" She scampered up to Angel, whispering, as though she was afraid that something was listening.

Something was listening. A whole lot of somethings. The things beneath the ground were growing steadily more agitated, but they were small little things, they wouldn't come out. They knew what they were up against, and it wasn't just her they feared.

"You're new at this," said Angel, "and there are things which can feel that. Use it." Buffy cringed when his voice cut through the air so loudly. It felt disrespectful. But she could see that he didn't care about the bodies in the graves… or the people they had been before they were buried there.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked, suddenly worried. He looked at her, unblinking. God he was beautiful. She felt as though she could look at him forever, and maybe that would be enough, and she wouldn't want any more. Unlikely.

"Maybe I like you." Something shone inside her all of a sudden – it was better than any of the dumb guys at school saying she was hot, better than any approval she got from her little clique. Better than double chocolate chip cookies.

"You d-do?" She felt very small, standing there, but happy suddenly, as though everything was sort of… coming together. Making sense for the first time in a very long while. _This is someone who understands what I'm going through, he knows how to help me and he's going to and he likes me _–

"Or maybe I brought you here to kill you." Suddenly her stomach dropped. That made sense, of course. Here they were, alone, at night. Oh God, how stupid. What a stupid little girl thinking that this guy actually _liked_ her. She felt utterly powerless all of a sudden, and began to back away, choking. _I'm really going to die this time. I can't do anything about it, I'm weak, I'm pathetic, I'm… nothing._

He walked over to her, and she found herself completely frozen. Here she was, she had thought herself so great, so invincible, and now she was just prey. He took her shoulders – quite gently, but not without purpose, and leaned in towards her.

"Kidding," he whispered in her ear, so quietly that if she had not been so close to him it would have seemed like the wind. She relaxed a little, but her heart was thumping violently against her chest.

"Why are you like this?" She pushed him away from her, suddenly angry. How dare he treat her like this? She was Buffy Summers, and no one said things like that to her, made fun of her, was mean to her, ever. She could feel the anger building inside of her, surging forward – and she punched him, completely full on the face. He staggered back for a moment, before suddenly grinning. She drew back her arm to hit him again, but he reached out and grabbed her hand so fast she didn't see him move.

He flipped her around so her back was against him, and she squirmed to get away. Surprising even herself, she managed to wrench his arms apart and push him backwards. She was panting by now, but he looked completely unfazed. Suddenly he was up – moving like a cat, almost like fluid, and before her brain had time to register anything – like that she was being pushed backwards so fast it was unreal, the air rushing past her ears, or the sudden sharpness in her back as she came to a stop about a millisecond after she had started moving – she had her back to a tree, and Angel was holding her arms back.

"Don't play games with me," she said, trying to keep that warning sound to her voice. The 'don't mess with me' sound that worked with people who were normal but certainly not for him. He was truly extraordinary.

"Games?" He was so close; she should have felt his breath on her face. But she didn't – there was nothing.

"What are you? Please tell me the truth." She knew the tone of voice she wanted. It was the one she used to get what she wanted. It worked on her parents, it worked on teachers, and it usually worked on guys. But not Angel, he just kept standing there, not even loosening his grip on her.

"You can't imagine what I am." That wasn't the answer she expected, but she couldn't see anything dishonest in his eyes. "I'll tell you," he continued, "in time I'll tell you everything. But right now there are things coming up, out of the ground." She snorted disbelievingly. "I'll show you. Come on." He let go of her arms, taking her hand instead and dragging her further into the graveyard. They passed dozens of graves, until finally Angel stopped opposite one.

It looked very new; the stone was gleaming and someone had laid a fresh bouquet of flowers beneath it. The name was just visible over the top.

"Clarissa Walker," read Buffy, yanking her hand out of Angel's grip and rubbing it. "I don't see what this has to do with me, or anything else for that matter. Or why I'm still here after _that_." She jerked her head towards the area where they'd fought earlier.

"You trust me," said Angel, his eyes still fixed on the headstone, "you can't help it." As annoying as Buffy found that, it was true. And she also knew that, even if he didn't say it, he knew that part of her had enjoyed having him so close to her, feeling what it was like to be at his mercy. In some perverse way, that lack of power made her feel more powerful. When she learnt to use her new strength, she knew that they could be equals. Perhaps she'd even be the stronger one.

She stayed silent, unable to think of a good comeback, and joined him in staring at the headstone. She felt a vague sense of anticipation; despite not knowing what exactly it was that they were waiting for. After what felt like ages, soil began to move in front of the bouquet.

"What is that?" She backed away, but Angel caught her again and she winced slightly, her hand still feeling slightly achy.

"Just wait," he half-whispered, excitement creeping into his voice, "it's coming."

Soil continued to shift, the turf cracking and crumbling away. A hand broke out and Buffy screamed, but stayed rooted to the spot. The hand was pulling and pushing at the dirt, scrabbling around with blistered knuckles and bloody fingernails. It was followed by an arm, then another hand breaking out from the ground, until a whole body was pulling itself up from the earth. It was a girl, bleach-blonde, and obviously quite pretty before she died. But when she saw Buffy her face suddenly shifted. Just like the thing Buffy had fought before, she had gleaming yellow eyes and a ridged, protruding forehead.

And fangs.

"Clarissa Walker, is that you?" Buffy didn't expect the girl to reply, and she didn't. She staggered towards Buffy, mud falling from her hair, the dress she'd been buried in, her feet as she lifted them. Angel took something from his coat pocket and threw it to Buffy. Catching it, she realised it was a wooden stake.

"In the heart. Otherwise it won't work." On Angel's words, Clarissa turned round to face him.

"Hey wait, aren't you the one who – ah!" Clarissa had a moment to look down at the stake protruding through the front of her chest, before she exploded into dust. What was left of her shimmered and fell away, revealing Buffy standing with the stake still outstretched.

"What was she saying to you?" Buffy was curious, and almost wished she hadn't killed Clarissa so quickly. But she had felt, at the time, that when the enemy's back is turned is the best time to strike. It may not have been very fair, but at least it had worked.

"I have no idea," replied Angel offhandedly, brushing dust from his sleeves. Buffy had the feeling that he wasn't telling the truth. About a lot of things. She felt like running, like she had learnt her lesson for tonight. And yet her feet refused to move.

"So what was she?" She already knew the answer, and Angel only confirmed it.

"Vampire."

"So… I kill vampires." She was, if possible, more confused than ever.

"Only if you want to. You could always use your power for other things." He was looking at her pointedly, but she had no idea what to say.

"Like what? Stopping shoplifters?"

"No. Like getting what you want." She still had no idea what he meant, and he sighed slightly and continued. "You're not just a human anymore. You're so much better than that now. You saw what you just did – what you're capable of. You can do anything you want. To anyone you want."

A slow smile grew on Buffy's face. And it wasn't a very nice one. If she had seen it, she might have said it looked like Angel's.

"Anything I want…"

**END**

Hope you liked it. Any kind of feedback you're offering is so welcome it's unreal.


	4. Anything

Hey guys, I'm back! Holiday absolutely sucked, but I had reviews to come back to, yay!

So thanks to floweredonion, Emmielou555, fuer grissa ost drauka, WellxWisher, uskohakuchan, Nightcrawlerlover and ConstantReader77. I adore you guys.

And onwards we go…

**Chapter Four: Anything**

Angel's words echoed in Buffy's head the next day. _Anything you want… anything_. She was aware that, at school at least, she was becoming more distant. She stopped listening in class – or even to the discussions going on during class which she usually participated so enthusiastically in.

"Hey, Buffy!" After a particularly hard slap from Kimberly, Buffy shook herself out of her stupor and looked away from the window.

"What?"

"You're so out of it! What the hell is up?" Her friends' faces were all turned towards her, half concerned and half curious. Buffy shrugged.

"I dunno, just thinking." She could have thought up something better, she supposed, but right now that wasn't something she cared about.

"It's a guy, isn't it!" Jennifer was grinning, looking around at the others. Suddenly losing her guard as she remembered Angel, a slow smile spread across Buffy's face. Jennifer burst into giggles. "Oh my God, it is! Who is it?"

Buffy shushed her, now giggling herself, as their particularly boring French teacher gave them a disapproving scowl. "He doesn't go here," she blabbed before she could stop herself. "He's… in college." It was an easy lie to tell. Besides, Angel looked like he could be in college. Maybe even older.

"Wow," said Kimberly, looking slightly impressed, "an older guy. Isn't that kinda perverted?" She smirked slightly. Jennifer started up her annoying giggling again. Buffy shot Kimberly a glare.

"Just because no guy older than twelve would be interested in _you_." The smirk vanished from Kimberly's face and she gave a half-hearted snort and turned round.

Jennifer gaped at Buffy. "Ouch," she said, rather flatly. Buffy turned back to the window and ignored her friends, who were looking at her in both disbelief and slight awe.

The lesson dragged, and with Buffy now sitting in silence, twinges of guilt began to gnaw at her. She reasoned with herself. _Kimberly doesn't understand. She's never met Angel, she doesn't know what he's like. Besides, what gives her the right to talk to me like that? I'm special, and I can do anything. Absolutely anything I want._

The bell rang and Buffy swung her bag over her shoulder, breezing out of the classroom without saying anything. Her friends gaped after her but she didn't see. A faint smile played around her lips as she strode away, superiority in the air around her.

Inevitably, regret cut in when she was far enough away from her friends for them not to see, and she stopped her brisk walking. Oh God, what if I have no one to hang out with this lunch? In her heart, she knew they would forgive her, but she fill felt that familiar pang, a biting fear of rejection, of isolation and loneliness. Being completely alone.

"Hey Summers, if you're feeling lonely you could always come sit on my lap – I'll make you feel better." Buffy jerked her head around to look at the offending speaker. It was a boy in the year above, whose last name she could never remember – but she was pretty sure he was called James. He grinned in a self-satisfied way, his equally slimy best friends laughing and slapping each other. Buffy narrowed her eyes in disgust.

She almost walked away, but Angel's voice echoed inside her head again. _Anything you want_. She took a step forward, setting her face in what she hoped was a determined and threatening expression.

"How dare you speak to me like that," she said, and was surprised at how even and confident her voice was. James looked surprised for a moment, then, gaining confidence as he realised the support he had and her complete lack thereof, he also stepped forwards, so they were standing only an arm's width apart.

"What are you gonna do to me? Huh, Summers? Hit me with one of your high heels?" He smirked. Buffy didn't even think before she reacted.

She reached out – so quickly that her arm was a blur- and grabbed hi by the collar. Without straining, and still with only one hand, she lifted him clean off the floor. He gasped, kicking his legs and struggling to get free. His friends stood up as though to help him but didn't dare take a step forward.

"You're a slimy little bastard," Buffy hissed at him, "I should kill you." He was choking now, his face turning red.

"Put… me… down… please," he stammered. Buffy dropped him and he fell to the floor, scrabbling to stand up, as clumsy as a beetle on its back.

"Say sorry," said Buffy coldly. She kicked him, not hard, but he winced.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, before running off. Buffy gave his friends a final look of disgust, before turning on her heel and striding off.

_Angel was right. I can do absolutely anything I want. I don't have to listen to anyone – in fact, everyone should listen to me. Why should I pay attention to any rules? They're for all these pathetic little people around me – not me, I'm special. I'm unique. That's why Angel likes me._

And with her private, thinking-of-Angel smile etched firmly on her face, she walked right out of school grounds, and headed for town.

Walking around an expensive shop which she hadn't even set foot in before, Buffy was still filled with a powerful sense of freedom. Running her hands over the unbelievably expensive dresses, she finally found one which was perfect. She took it out, holding it up against her and smiling. Making absolutely no attempt to be subtle or discreet, she shoved it in her bag and walked out of the shop.

Of course the alarms went off, but Buffy was already running – and far too fast for the security guards. They'd never find out who she was by watching security tapes either – she'd been wearing a hat and had thought, at least, to keep her face down, even if she had been blatantly obvious in stealing the dress.

Sufficiently far away, but with more than enough energy to keep running for miles, Buffy stopped and laughed. It was somewhere between the pure and ecstatic laugh of someone who has just been set free, and something colder and harder.

_Anything. I can do anything. I can say what I want, do what I want, get what I want. I could even get away with murder._

**END**

Sorry about the delay. Hope you liked. Review pleeeeeeasepleaseplease.

My next update will probably be on Thursday, as I'm not going to be at home for a few days. I can write the chapter, but not post it.

Which annoys me.

And yes, I do have an ex called James.


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